The Cottage by Coniston (Seasons of Change Book 5)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

She removed her frown. “Merely because I was fearing that you were the one to carry them here.”

  He chuckled, the sound instantly warming the coolness within her soul. “Worry not. A woman once told me how to hold the hens, and since then, they’ve been more than happy.”

  “Ah, she must have been a very wise woman,” she teased. “How fortunate you are to have met her.”

  “Indeed, I am fortunate.”

  His tone had changed, all mischief gone, replaced with such sincerity Amy wasn’t sure what to respond with other than another blush.

  “Miss Paxton—”

  “Amy, there you are.”

  Amy blinked, coming out of the perfect bubble Mr. Eastwood had formed around them to face one of the last men she wished to see that evening.

  “Hugh,” she said dully.

  She’d managed to avoid her brother and Mr. Roberts since boating the day before, though they’d both been at the fair the entire day with Miss Cox, sampling all the ale and cheese they could find.

  Amy was still not ready to speak with Hugh since his betrayal, nor was she ready to have him interrupt her time with Mr. Eastwood.

  “I must speak with you for a moment, sister,” Hugh said, directing his body away from Mr. Eastwood without a word of greeting.

  Mr. Eastwood stared down at him with a tight-lipped expression. Was he considering the argument he’d had with Hugh the day before?

  “It can wait, Hugh,” she stated firmly. “As you can see, I’m speaking with Mr. Eastwood.”

  Hugh’s eyes didn’t flicker from hers, his smile void of any happiness. “I’m well aware. But I fear this cannot wait.”

  Amy’s determination faltered. His eyes truly did speak of an urgency he did not often show—unless, of course, he was anxious to meet with a woman. So what could he have to say to Amy?

  With a regretful sigh, she nodded. “Mr. Eastwood, would you mind so very much excusing me for a moment?”

  Mr. Eastwood’s jaw tightened, though he nodded all the same. “Of course, Miss Paxton. I’ll wait here for you.”

  He gave what could only be read as a warning glance to Hugh then turned to face his chickens.

  Amy begrudgingly followed her brother away from Mr. Eastwood and past a few carts before stopping in a quiet area near the border of the trees. Their footsteps barely had time to stop before Amy’s patience fled from her grasp.

  “What is the meaning of this, Hugh?” she hissed, making sure to keep her voice checked. “If pulling me away from Mr. Eastwood is some poor attempt to make my decisions for me, you must be mad, indeed. After what you did to me with Mr. Roberts, I will never heed your advice again!”

  “Do calm yourself, Amy.”

  He raised his hands in the air as if to calm a rabid dog on the streets—which only proved to infuriate her all the more.

  “I will not calm myself! How could you, Hugh? How could you bring him here after what he did to me, after the rumors he spread, after—”

  “I didn’t!” He shook his head, his eyes wide. “I swear to you, I didn’t.”

  Her mouth dropped at his obvious lie. “How can you lie so effortlessly? Mr. Roberts himself said you’d invited him!”

  “No, no, that was before. I admit, many months ago when you had first shown an interest in Mr. Roberts, I told him to join us in the Lake District. But that was the one and only time I ever mentioned it to him. He must have taken that verbal invitation and used it as an excuse to join us here.”

  Amy narrowed her eyes, mistrust swirling inside her.

  “I speak the truth, Amy. You heard him say yourself that he was looking for the manor instead of the cottage. Had I invited him later, he would’ve known exactly where to find us.”

  As his words spoke sense to her frustrations, Amy sighed. She hated the way Hugh could talk himself out of any situation—even if he was speaking the truth. “Very well, I believe you in that regard. But don’t think we can go back to the way things were. I’m not going to follow your advice any longer. I cannot trust you.”

  He shrugged, looking very apathetic to her releasing him from her services. “Whatever you desire. Though, you may wish to reconsider when I earn your trust back by telling you the real reason Mr. Roberts has come to Coniston.”

  Amy’s brow twitched. “He has already told me.”

  “That his feelings for you matched your own two months past? Surely you know that is not the whole truth, Amy.”

  The breath slowly seeped from her lungs. Mr. Roberts had lied to her? Her throat dried. “Then what is the whole truth?”

  Hugh must have sensed her hesitancy, for instead of bounding forth with his information, he had the decency to pause for a moment.

  “I will be the first to admit that I would not mind having Roberts for a brother-in-law. He and I were friends, if you recall, before any of this occurred between the two of you.”

  She looked away. She should not be the one to feel any semblance of guilt right now.

  “Last night, Mr. Roberts had enough drinks to tell me the truth behind his sudden appearance. Apparently, his parents are finished with his inability to commit to marriage. They’ve refused him finances to gamble, purchase clothes, everything, until he finds himself a wife.”

  Amy’s mind scrambled to make sense of the information. “So he came all the way to Coniston to attempt to marry me? Why not one of the thousands of women in Bath?”

  “He tried to do so for a month, but one evening, he drunkenly told half of Bath his reasoning to marry.”

  “The man cannot hold his liquor, can he?”

  “No, indeed. He’s worse at drinking than he is at rowing.”

  Despite herself, Amy shared a smile with Hugh before he continued.

  “Now the women he’d been pursuing will not even entertain the idea of being with him, for they all believe in the notion of marrying for love.” Hugh scoffed. “After many failed attempts, Mr. Roberts hoped to come here before news of his true intentions reached you.”

  Amy shook her head in disbelief. Thank heavens she hadn’t accepted the man’s deceitful, desperate words enough to even consider being with him.

  “I tried to tell you all of this earlier today, but since you’ve been avoiding me—”

  “For good reason,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, for good reason. But now you see I am not in the wrong. Perhaps you and our parents will have a better opinion of me now.”

  Amy’s heart reached out to him, despite her best efforts to remain apathetic. She didn’t know if he truly worried over having people respect him or not, but it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little encouragement. “Yes, perhaps we will.”

  He leaned toward her. “So, now that I’ve made amends with you, am I allowed to help you make your decisions again? Because I really think you ought to allow Mr. Roberts’s pursual of you.”

  Amy’s lips parted, her brow furrowing. “You can’t be serious.”

  He did not have his usual teasing grin on his lips. “I am. Perfectly.”

  This time, it was her turn to scoff. “Hugh John Paxton, you have gone insane.”

  She made to walk past him, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Come now, Amy, just listen for a moment. Mr. Roberts may not be perfect, but he’s a good man inside. He was honest about his true intentions, was he not?”

  “Oh, yes. Very honest, indeed. Only a few glasses of ale had to pull it out of him.”

  Hugh shrugged. “What does that matter if he is wealthy, Amy, with a good family name and a better reputation than your brother’s? He also admitted that he does have a fondness for you.”

  “A fondness?” She pulled back. Weeks ago, she might’ve been flattered. But now, having his fondness was hardly appealing. “How flattering.”

  “You nearly loved him before. What is to stop you from doing so again?”

  What was to stop her? One very great reason—and that specific reason was whom she needed to get back to this very moment.

  W
ith a shake of her head, she moved past Hugh, speaking over her shoulder. “You only want me to marry him because he’s your friend. It’s purely selfish motives with you, Hugh. As always.”

  “If you believe you are to marry Mr. Eastwood, I would rethink that logic, sister.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amy’s steps faltered. She turned around to face Hugh, anger flushing through her as she wondered if he was making threats or predictions. “Why is that?”

  He stepped toward her. “I admit, I pushed you and Mr. Roberts to be on the boat together because I had thought perhaps this would encourage Mr. Eastwood to share his feelings for you out of sheer jealousy. But after spending more time with Mr. Eastwood, all I can say is that you would be better off with Mr. Roberts than that supposed gentleman.”

  “You only say that because of your argument with him. What did he do, stand up to you? Share his disapproval for your inappropriate behavior?” She leaned forward. “Express his disappointment in you like Mother and Father always have to do?”

  His eyes hardened, and Amy regretted the words in an instant. As upset as she was, there was no reason for her to pick at Hugh’s own wounds.

  “Forgive me,” she muttered. “Mr. Eastwood is a fine gentleman, and you know how I’ve grown to care for him. I do not appreciate…” She trailed off as he shook his head. “What is it?”

  “Would a fine gentleman pursue a woman while he is already engaged to another?”

  This again? When would the rumors stop? And when would her heart cease its dropping whenever she heard mention of it?

  “He is not engaged. I’ve heard it from his own mouth.” And she would trust him, like he’d trusted her with stories of his past.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Amy. Why do you think the man is not yet married?”

  She knew why. He’d told her himself he’d chosen not to marry until his grandfather passed. But she wasn’t about to let Hugh know such a thing. She raised her chin. “Perhaps because he has not found the right woman.”

  Hugh barked out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, I assure you, he’s found the perfect woman for him in Miss Charity Winslow. She’s strong, as he clearly wishes his wife to be. She has been supporting her mother since Mr. Winslow passed. And she knows Mr. Eastwood better than any other woman in town.”

  She winced. Was there some truth to his words? Had Mr. Eastwood pulled away before he could kiss her because his conscience had spoken to him?

  No. She refused to believe Hugh’s words. They were friends. Mr. Eastwood and Miss Winslow were only friends.

  “You are merely listening to Miss Cox and her gossip again, that is all,” she said, if only to reassure herself.

  “I’ve heard the same story from multiple sources. And I tell you now only to save you from future embarrassment. If you pursue Mr. Eastwood, you will be hurt, Amy. If you agree to marry Mr. Roberts, you will be contentedly settled for the rest of your life.”

  She closed her eyes, tears brimming at the edge, but she refused to release them. “No. No, I will not listen to this. I will not marry a man who does not love me.”

  “But you’ll agree to marry a man who loves another?”

  She gritted her teeth, trying to push aside the negative words infiltrating her mind. “Don’t speak to me, Hugh. Don’t ever speak to me again!”

  She spun on her heel, rounding the corner of an empty, forsaken booth and barreling straight into Mr. Eastwood’s chest. She pulled back, his hands around her upper arms to steady her in an instant.

  “Miss Paxton?” Concern creased his brow as his eyes lingered on her tears. “What happened? Are you well?”

  “Yes, I assure you.”

  “Ah, Mr. Eastwood. Here you are again.”

  Amy spun around as Hugh approached them, a pointed look in his eyes. Would he confront Mr. Eastwood about Miss Winslow? Or…or would he tell Mr. Eastwood about Amy’s failed attempt to marry Mr. Roberts?

  Her insides broiled. She wanted to believe Hugh would respect her enough to keep his words to himself, but there was no way she could.

  “Are you the cause of your sister’s distress, sir?” Mr. Eastwood said, taking a step forward to stand equally beside Amy.

  Hugh barked a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t say I was, Mr. Eastwood.”

  “Hugh, stop,” Amy pleaded.

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe.” Mr. Eastwood took another step toward him. “Especially when you continuously give her poor advice on how to behave. What gives you the right to do such a thing?”

  A wicked smile spread across Hugh’s lips. “Oh, so my sister has not told you why she’s chosen me to make her decisions for her?”

  Amy’s breathing grew heavy. This could not be happening. She could not allow this conversation to continue.

  Mr. Eastwood’s eyes flicked to Amy’s. “It matters not what her reasonings are. What matters is that I have had enough of seeing the way you treat her.”

  “Oh, the way I treat her?” Hugh shook his head. “And what of yourself, sir?”

  Mr. Eastwood’s fists clenched. “I’ve treated your sister with nothing but respect from the start.”

  “Respect? Funny way to show it.”

  Amy shook her head. She was the one who needed to tell Mr. Eastwood about everything—about Mr. Roberts, about the rumors—everything.

  And she would do it now, before anything further happened.

  “What do you mean by that, sir?” Mr. Eastwood asked.

  “I mean, how can you show respect when you are—”

  “Hugh!” Amy said through clenched teeth. Never had she spoken so harshly, never had she been so angry. With a look of warning, she held up her hand. “Stop, now.”

  Finally, he did, his chest rising and falling. She turned to Mr. Eastwood. “Please, come with me.”

  Mr. Eastwood hesitated, still staring at Hugh, but when she pressed an entreating hand against his arm, he finally relented.

  They walked away, and Amy looked over her shoulder to ensure Hugh stayed put. He was already walking in the opposite direction with a shake of his head.

  Amy could not yet breathe a sigh of relief, for she expected the next conversation to be even more difficult than the last.

  They remained silent as Amy led the way past more people and booths and food until they reached the field opposite the fair, where two large draft horses stood near the fence.

  “May I speak candidly with you, Mr. Eastwood?” she asked as they paused near the horses.

  “Of course.” His brow pursed warily.

  She turned to face the Clydesdales, focusing on their dark brown coats and white, feathered feet as the horses grazed lazily in the grass.

  “I don’t really know where to begin,” she said in a sort of daze, “but I do wish to explain to you a few things, things that I believe will help you to understand my behavior—as well as the argument I’ve just had with my brother.”

  Mr. Eastwood stared down at her. Though he remained silent, she could see the intrigue in his eyes.

  “You see, I never would have asked Hugh to make my decisions for me—or rather, to advise me on certain decisions I made—were it not for my utter incompetence around gentlemen.”

  Mr. Eastwood gave a soft laugh. “Forgive me, but I find such an incompetence from you hard to believe.”

  Though flattered by his words, she shook her head. “No, it is true. I am inept. Truly. You see…” She looked to the horses again. “A few months ago, before we came to Coniston, I found myself quite enraptured by Mr. Roberts. I told him, without any prompting or any notion of his feelings, that I wished to marry him.”

  William blinked hard to keep his eyes from widening. Miss Paxton had said such a thing? And to Mr. Roberts? He knew there had to be something between them. So…she’d liked him enough to share such words with him? A knot the size of Cumbria tied in his stomach.

  Miss Paxton continued. “Mr. Roberts was rightfully tak
en aback. He swiftly expressed his lack of feelings for me, and that was that. I decided to enlist Hugh’s help to stop my poor decision-making before I could humiliate myself any further.”

  “I see.”

  And he could see. He knew how Miss Paxton disliked to be embarrassed. He also knew her aptitude for being rather blunt. Most gentlemen would be frightened of such forward behavior, though William himself would not—was not.

  Still, confusion muddled his mind.

  He pressed a hand to his brow. “Forgive me, I cannot understand why making one slightly poor decision would lead you to seeking your brother’s help, of all people.”

  Her cheeks shaded pink. “Well, it was not just the one time. It happened before with a distant cousin of ours a year ago. And…and I’ve been known to lose friendships due to men and women alike being put off by my forthright behavior.”

  Understanding dawned. But still. “Why Hugh?”

  She shrugged. “It is as I said before. Most people seem to like him. Present company excluded.”

  They shared a wry smile before she released a sigh.

  “Of course, the poorest of decisions I’ve ever made was asking him to decide my life for me.”

  William nodded, his mind wandering from question after question before finally settling on one. “Do you know why Mr. Roberts has come to visit here?” William had to know if it was Hugh’s invitation that brought him here or something else.

  Miss Paxton’s shoulders fell. “That is what I was just discussing with Hugh. You see, on the boat, Mr. Roberts expressed his devotion to me, that he was wrong before about his lack of feelings, then ended with a proposal.”

  William swallowed the anger rising within him. There was no reason to be upset with the man who had clearly not won Miss Paxton’s hand. But still, the thought of his unkindness shifting to a proposal was beyond him.

  “However,” she continued, “Hugh has informed me that Mr. Roberts only wishes to marry me to get back his restricted finances—as no other woman in Bath would.”

  William shook his head in disbelief. “So he feigned feelings for you simply to receive money?”